Mirrors
by Twilight ISN'T the best
Summary: Mirrors reflect things, mirrors show us who we are. What do the Total Drama Islanders see in the mirror? Who are they when the cameras aren't rolling? Chapter Two: I Hope He's Cold.
1. I'm Not Hungry

**I got a brilliant idea during French class today, and I just had to get this first chapter out. I'm not sure if I'll actually continue this story, but I hope to.**

**I credit Elihu for the best Total Drama Island fanfiction I've read yet (and yes, I have read both Total Drama Comeback _and _Total Drama Battlegrounds. Both are tied at a close second) "Wax Character". I highly suggest you read this story!**

**I credit my cat, Grace, for being good at the vet's and letting me work on my story rather than sleeping on the keyboard with her caramel and black striped tail flicking from side to side**

**I credit that 'Goth' girl at the grocery store in the Twilight shirt and black skinny jeans who told me sundresses were out of style for inspiring Gwen.**

**And, finally, I credit Korn, Amy Lee, Green Day, J. Geils Band, Collective Soul, John Cougar Mellencamp and Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers for filling my head with great music while I wrote this story.**

**PS: I just picked a random weight for Lindsay, so I know it's probably WAY too tiny for someone with boobs that big.**

* * *

**Excerpt from the diary of Jacqueline 'Lindsay' Beauvoir**

* * *

I'm ugly.

I'm ugly, and I can't do anything about it.

I've stopped eating, I've cut my hair short and ruined it putting in three inch wide stripes of yellow, I've even started wearing the clothes that all those other girls wear. I'm still ugly, and I still don't have any friends.

Ha, friends, what a funny concept.

My 'Friends' aren't _real_ friends. They laugh at my corny jokes, they help me on homework, they hang out with me, but they're not my friends. You want to know how I can tell?

They tell me I'm pretty.

They smile and stroke my hair, telling me how pretty I am. But, when I look in their eyes, I can see that they're lying. I can see that they're just jealous of me and my only stunning feature: my beautiful figure, my model thin figure with skin stretched so tight you can count my ribs. My hip bones flare out like elegant little wings, and my legs only touch at the knees. When I look in the mirror, I feel a little thrill... Then I look at my breasts and I hate how they just out like some sort of carry-along table or something. My face is like something out of a horror movie: Big lips, big eyes, big ears. Big ISN'T beautiful! Big is UGLY!

They try to get me to eat.

They pack extra lunches for me and bring them to school. They pack things I used to like eating, things like steak (medium rare, a red pool clinging to the foil it's wrapped it like some deleted scene from a slasher movie; Disgusting), mashed potatoes (one part potato, two parts sour cream, and, to top it all off, salt and pepper; Revolting) and celery (fresh, crunchy, simple; puke-worthy).

One of them, Nicole, likes to force something in my mouth. She makes me chew the disgusting piece of meat, enjoys seeing my jaws moving while I bite down and release more of that red blood from the chunk. I cry sometimes, I cry because I don't want to hear my teeth bite down, don't want to hear them pull up from the food, bits and pieces sticking into them and making a smacking sound as they stretch and finally snap back to their brownish cube. I _especially _don't want to hear my traitorous tummy grumbling for this animal cube.

I hate the way it feels! I hate the feeling of this now-mushy slop gliding down my throat and dropping into the once-tranquil chamber of my stomach. When Nicole makes me eat, I can hear the echoing _plop_ the uninvited visitor makes as it falls into my stomach.

But I know it's all a lie. How could anyone think I'm pretty when I still have so much more work to do?

* * *

I smirked at reading my old diary. _Now _I'm pretty, because _now_ I have Chris. I turned to the back of the silly black journal, back to the clean, unused pages, slightly yellowed with age, and picked up a pen.

"_In response to my earlier entry:_" I wrote at the top, labeling the page for future reference. Giggling with glee, I let the pen begin wildly tracing over that page, leaving curly pink letters in it's tracks.

"_Then I found someone who understood, who told me that I was as ugly as I know I am. His name was Chris, and he told me I COULD be pretty if I had long golden hair, if I wore a short skirt and boots, and if I used some fake tanner. If I acted dumb and sweet, like a frosted cupcake."_

_I did all he said, and then I went to go see him._

_He kissed me. With tongue!_

_He kissed me, he made me feel so special. He gently caressed my wing-like hips and told me how beautiful I was._

_Then we made love._

_Chris is the only one who understands me. The only one who understands Jacqueline Beauvoir. Or, as he refers to me, Lindsay._"

I don't even remember this pathetic 'Jacquline Beauvior', all I know is that I am Lindsay, and that Lindsay is beautiful.

And Lindsay weighs 97 pounds.


	2. I Hope He's Cold

Evanescence is filling my room, and mom's telling me to turn down the stereo. I yell down to her that I don't want to, then I slam my door and turn the silver dial controlling the volume to the right, making Amy Lee's voice louder.

My favorite song is 'Call Me When You're Sober', because it's totally awesome, and it's, like, the only song she's ever sung where I can actually tell what she's talking about when I look up the lyrics. I totally think there should be some Evanescence in the next Twilight movie, because it's so totally cool, and, like, perfect for when Bella is in 'Zombie Mode' over Edward leaving.

I wish I was Bella, 'cause she's so pretty, and she has that sparkling hunk as her boyfriend. My boyfriend isn't _nearly_ as cool as Edward. My sister can have him, because I would rather look for my Edward.

My sister...

Anastasia is a loser with a capital 'L'. She says Edward is abusive, has no personality, and is about as much a vampire as her cat. But she's wrong, Edward is perfect, Edward is sweet, Edward is beautiful.

I heard my mom stomping up the stairs (it's a wonder I heard it over that one song about rain clouds) and quickly locked my door. My lock is the kind that you can't unlock from the outside, so she's not getting in any time soon.

I jump up on my bed and start singing along to the meaningless lyrics, wondering why the hell people think that there's some secret message hidden in them.

My Edward poster is next to my bed, perfect face covered in black kissy-marks from my lips. I lean over and press my lips against his, pretending that it's real and that the cold poster is kissing me back.

Then I pull away, eyes closed, imagining his strong arms pushing me away, for fear of him losing control at the mere scent of me. I'm wearing the Bella perfume that was taken off shelves a while ago, so I hope that I smell as good as her.

I hope that my Edward will come soon, 'cause I'm sick and tired of fucking those guys at my school and using my Twilight dildo, pretending it's that stunning vampire pumping into me. If I get to stick the fake dick in the freezer while Mom's out partying with her friends, I can really get into it.

I opened my eyes and jumped off the bed, going instead to stand in front of my mirror with a picture of Edward taped onto it. I'm in my purple crotchless panties (two sizes too small) with a super frilly bra. I'm wearing them for my boyfriend, Sean.

I dont' really like him, I'm just dating him 'cause he's popular... and 'cause Anna likes him.

I love to spite Anna. She's so stupid for not liking Twilight, she's so stupid she deserves to die.

I had my short black skirt, black corset and clunky boots on in an instant, and soon I opened the window. My window has a huge old oak tree outside it that I can use to climb out of my window when I'm going out with Sean, or going out with my friends. Mom doesn't like my friends, and she doesn't like the clothes I wear when I go out with Sean, so I like to turn up my music and sneak out. Besides, sneaking out is cool.

I look down from my perch on the tree to see Sean waiting for me below, probably loving the crotchless panties I'm wearing.

I jump down and into his arms, imagining Edward's arms around me instead of Sean's. But Sean isn't cold enough, so it's more like that one jock kid's arms. I think his name is Mikey or something.

* * *

I got a call from someone named Chris today.

Chris is the host of a TV show I signed up to be in, and he said I'm in.

I'm going to be so TOTALLY popular now! Maybe I'll even find my Edward...

Anna is reading over a letter from the producers right now, mentioning the stupid little details like my name change, who my pre-chosen love interest is, and my pre-chosen personality.

But that's not important.

Because I'm not her sister Maya anymore.

My name is Gwen, and Gwen's Edward is Trent.

I hope he's cold.


End file.
